I used to wonder what made a girl
just right,
as though rightness could be bought
with the groceries-
ingredients in a cookie,
wheeled home in a
metal cart

You shop for girls like a
suit jacket;
this one for lunch, this for dinner and
another, for dancing
weighing pieces of her
like steak

This one worth EXTRA
(an aproned butcher cries)
for her musical ear-
she’s a Free Range girl,
trained not to ask you when
you’re coming home

This one’s on discount for her crazy, but
she’ll make up for it in bed

Half off the girl with the looming
expiration date-
50% the commitment
before she sours

This skim girl is 2% the taste, but
she’ll kiss you when you go and
tuck you back in again, drunk
she might not like Mario Kart
as much as she says-
but what of it?

It’s what everybody does, you say,
It’s all we ever do
But I don’t see them
shopping you

I see them smile and slide,
forgive and give until
they’re spoiled,
bruised peaches
kicked out of the bowl

But they asked nothing from you, so
they were freebies, anyway


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